


KCPD

by Shurely



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Detective AU, Krimson City Crew, M/M, Mentioning of alcoholism, Mild Language, Slow Build, establishing the relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shurely/pseuds/Shurely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new addition to the KCPD: Detective Ruben Victoriano, a man as intent to wind Sebastian up as he is solving crime. But with Krimson City's crime rate at its highest, they'd better settle their differences before something big comes along.</p><p>Does the banter help? Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, but what if Ruvik was a detective?
> 
> Tags will be updated as I go along.

Monday morning, filing into the station, checking in and checking up on those colleagues that were returning from the weekend as well. There was no other feeling like it: the fatigue and reluctance rolled into one and creating an air of soberness that Sebastian shared as he walked into his department. There was already a queue for the coffee pot when he arrived, but Joseph appeared by his side with two mugs, handing one over to him without a word. He spotted Kidman booting up her computer, tapping a finger impatiently against the keyboard as the old machine protested. She gave him a quick nod in greeting, and then it was back to his desk and the cluttered mess of newspapers and files that he was still in the process of sorting out. He slung his coat over the stand in the corner of his office with a groan, before approaching the desk and shuffling the papers around.

"I told you not to leave it all out on Friday." Joseph had followed him in and was taking a look at the bulletin board. He glanced at Sebastian, who sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"At least we don't have to go through all of those filing cabinets again," he muttered. Joseph afforded him a disapproving look, so he changed tact. "How was your weekend?"

"It was fine. I hope that you remember everything that you took out from the archives." He nodded at the desk. "You'll have to scan those in today."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I'll do it later. I want to give them another read to see which ones are relevant."

He could see that Joseph wasn't completely satisfied with his reply, but he left his office anyway, giving Sebastian the opportunity to sink into his seat and look over his desk. He'd lost count of the times that Joseph had reprimanded him on his desk, or his appearance, or his behaviour when on duty. But it was coming up to three years now of the two of them working together, and Joseph hadn't left the department just yet - nor had he stopped huffing whenever Sebastian's conduct didn't quite align to his liking, but then where was the fun in monotony?

Kidman wouldn't agree, knowing her, but to step in her way was to risk having a fist crunching into your stomach, or worse, a stiletto in the foot. It was permanently engrained into Sebastian that attempting to pull her into a friendly headlock would mean almost having all of the bones in his foot shattered. In the year that she'd been part of the team, he had never seen her without her phone clipped to her belt, ready for use, and the necessary files on hand. Even now, she was typing furiously, ignoring the people standing around the office with mugs in their hands and talking about their weekends. But for her determination, she had Sebastian's respect, and she never denied a doughnut if offered or joining a round of drinks after a particularly gruelling case had been solved.

He had barely found a place to put his mug amidst the papers when he spotted everyone standing up outside, facing the doors at the other end. Through the crowd, he saw the lieutenant, and, wondering what kind of announcement they had to accept today, rose from his chair to join everyone. Joseph had his arms folded, brow furrowed, and Sebastian nudged him.

"Any idea what's going on?" he asked.

"Burnes left KCPD last Friday, if you remember," answered Joseph, "meaning that we have a spare desk."

Sebastian did remember - the guy hadn't been the friendliest fellow on the force, so there hadn't been any tears shed at his departure - and now that he thought about it, it occurred to him that he hadn't seen a replacement enter yet. The lieutenant had started talking over the murmurs, and he quickly paid attention, a small twist in his gut. Now that he had a view over people's heads, the man standing next to the lieutenant was clearly visible, standing straight with his trench coat draped over his arm and gaze flicking over the department, taking it in with a faint downturn of his lips. But what startled Sebastian were the bandages wrapped over his hands and head, clean white, keeping most of his face visible. The man, probably as tall as Joseph, kept still, but his eyes continued to rove over the crowd - until they settled on Sebastian, meeting his stare unflinchingly. Sebastian clenched his jaw to distract himself from the uncomfortable prickling of his skin; the man finally blinked, but something had changed in his otherwise impassive expression, something slight and as such unfathomable from his distance.

"Everyone!" said the lieutenant loudly. "Listen up! We got a new guy on the team, movin' over from the department in Elk River! I'd like to introduce Detective Ruben Victoriano." Joseph stiffened, and Sebastian made a mental note to press him with questions later. A few others mumbled to their friends, until the lieutenant waved his hand and they quietened. "Castellanos," he said, and Sebastian's heart leapt. The lieutenant fixed him with a hard stare. "I'm countin' on you to give this fella a Krimson City welcome - you two will be partnerin' up, so make some room for one more on your team."

It took a moment for that fact to sink in, and by the time it had, the lieutenant had already instructed everyone to continue with their work and treat Victoriano with the respect of any other detective. Sebastian had frozen on the spot, aware that Joseph and Kidman had struck up a quiet conversation to the side. The newcomer, Victoriano, cleared his throat, and the lieutenant clapped him on the shoulder, causing him to blink slowly, as though the gesture pained him both physically and mentally. Most people dispersed when the lieutenant had nothing more to say, going back to their desks, but some remained to greet Victoriano. Sebastian took a deep breath, then looked to Joseph, who was avoiding his eye 

"Talk about a turn of events, huh?" he said with a half-hearted grin. Joseph fiddled with the cuff of his gloves. "You all right?"

"I..." Joseph pursed his lips. "The Victorianos. Haven't you heard of them?"

Sebastian frowned. "Should I have?"

"Well, it was all over the news - the fire that completely burnt their mansion and killed their parents. I had no idea that the son became a detective. You  _don't_ know about them?"

A fire. Sebastian caught a glimpse of Victoriano slipping through the other officers to find his desk, bandaged fingers flexing when someone called his name. No one had lit a cigarette yet, but the acrid smell of smoke still stung his nose. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit, I never heard about that. When did this happen?"

Joseph hummed. "Last year, I believe. It was when..." He trailed off, prompting Sebastian to fold his arms expectantly. "Never mind. Make sure you read those files."

He returned to his desk, and Sebastian turned his eye to Victoriano again. All things added up, he could only imagine one reason for Joseph not wanting to bring up last year's events, and in all honesty, he wasn't eager to think about it either. It only heightened the foul smell haunting his nose, causing him to pull a face. At that moment, Victoriano looked at him, raising his eyebrows as Sebastian hastily relaxed the muscles in his face and inclined his head. So, another detective on the team? When people joined the KCPD, they had the opportunity to learn the ropes from the older officers; Victoriano came from a department with its own method of working, and Sebastian had seen the friction firsthand between experienced newcomers and the veterans of the KCPD.

Still, at least he  _had_  experience. After waiting for his friend Connelly to move away, he took his chance to walk up to Victoriano's desk and watch as the man examined his new workspace, who didn't seem perturbed in the least that Sebastian was leaning against his desk, ready to talk. When Victoriano booted up his computer and showed no signs of initiating conversation, however, Sebastian finally spoke.

"Detective Sebastian Castellanos," he said, holding out a hand. The fact that Victoriano didn't shake it wasn't surprising; those bandages were on for a reason, and his reaction to the lieutenant's slap on the shoulder hadn't been missed. At least he had Victoriano's eyes on him, cold grey that cautioned him to keep his distance. "I'll be sending some work over your way to get you up to speed to our recent cases. Might as well hit the ground running."

There was a second where Sebastian sought a reply - some kind of acknowledgement that this wouldn't be a problem, because tough luck if it was - and Victoriano merely stared at him. Then he humphed, a ghost of a smile on his half-scarred lips.

"Sebastian Castellanos." He sounded as though he was weighing his name on his tongue. "I've heard a great deal about...your  _habits_." He glanced down at Sebastian's belt, and Sebastian didn't need to follow his gaze to know that it had settled on his hip flask. He bristled. Victoriano tilted his head enquiringly. "Nothing to say in your defence? Or are you afraid that it may be used against you?"

For a moment, Sebastian was speechless, reading the man's face even though it may well have been a blank slate for all of the answers that it held. Then he grinned. "Welcome to the force, Victoriano."

"Ruben," he corrected.

Sebastian nodded. "Ruben."

Walking to his office, he could feel the man's eyes on his back, and not even Joseph's pointed glare could remove the smirk that he still wore. Monday morning, and things had already gotten interesting. Well, it was about time. He dipped a hand into his trouser pocket and drew out a cigarette from the packet. The only question was what else the day had in store.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and his new partner have fun chasing after a suspect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience! This fic is going to be a mix of these guys solving cases as well as tackling day-to-day stuff, but here we're going to start with some relative action. Enjoy!

"Ah, shit."

Sebastian peered up and down the street, chest heaving, as other pedestrians shot him strange looks. Then a blur a few stores up caught his eye, and he dove to the left, sprinting onto the road when people refused to part in time. The suspect broke out from the pathway, running in front of a car and earning an angry horn from the taxi driver. When Sebastian attempted to follow, he narrowly missed having his foot run over, the car's bonnet jolting into his side. He hissed in pain, and in that moment, the suspect darted out of sight. Sebastian followed his trail; he ran into an alleyway, but, upon emerging on the other side, there was no sign of the man.

"Fuck!" he growled, grabbing his radio. A nearby woman with a pram glared at him, and he swiftly walked on. "Suspect's disappeared off Lower Harlem Road, near the junction to the Yield Avenue. Requesting pickup from said location."

"Copy that."

Sebastian resisted the urge to light a cigarette, and instead stood by the kerb, recovering his breath. He scanned the street once more, but the shifting crowds were a mosaic of faces, none of which struck a chord in his memory. He swore to himself. The last he'd heard was a shout of warning - or reprimand, he wasn't entirely sure - and then he'd chased after the suspect: a middle-aged patient from Beacon Mental Hospital, who was one of two suspected of assaulting the attending doctor with a syringe. If Sebastian had known that Fernando Cabrera would burst out from the building and sprint into the open, he would have gotten out of the car sooner and advised his newest partner to cut off the suspect's path.

His pulse finally settled, he sighed, his breath pluming white in the air. It had only been a month of working alongside Ruben; he was probably going to get an earful from Joseph about abandoning his partner in the middle of the city - the city that, judging from Ruben's questions about every nook and cranny, he knew little about. He tapped a finger against his hip flask, glad that he could finally touch it without feeling the new detective's stare on him. Even resting his hand on his belt had the man snorting under his breath. The thought of it made him groan with frustration. It wasn't as though he drank on the job, and besides, at least Joseph had had the courtesy to mind his own business - kind of. They were still working on it.

A police car drove up to the kerb, and Sebastian hauled open the door and sank into the passenger seat without even checking the driver. As it was, Ruben had his eyebrows raised, but he was saved any humiliation of stepping into another officer's car.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"No, thank _you_ ," said Ruben, smirking slightly. "You confirmed that you can indeed use your radio. I had begun to lose hope."

Sebastian scowled. "What, did I miss something?" He finally caved in and pulled out a cigarette, shielding the flame of the lighter from Ruben's view, because even seeing it made him jump and glare at Sebastian. But the breath of hot air helped him relax into the seat whilst Ruben headed down the road and to the traffic lights. 

"Aside from my calls to stop you running off, yes." He eyed Sebastian coolly. "Whilst you were jogging after Mr. Cabrera, I checked his latest residence."

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Ah, right. We should go back there."

"There's no need. There was nothing there."

  
_I'll be the judge of that_ , he thought. "A second opinion never hurt," he replied. "Take the left here."

The car straight drove on. He sucked on his cigarette, trying to hold in the flare of anger. Ruben didn't even look his way.

"Are you fucking listening to me?" he snapped. "We can't-"

"Language."

"Excuse me?"

Ruben sighed. "You know what I think about your profanity." Sebastian glowered at him, but he continued before he could make a retort. "I made a thorough inspection, and the little that I did find is stored on my phone. A code was written on a slip of paper underneath Cabrera's mattress."

"I need to see it for myself. We can have Joseph decode it-"

"Again, unnecessary," remarked Ruben. "It's an address to a set of apartments not far from here. You can have a look for yourself. I'm sure even _you_ can decipher it."

He passed his phone to Sebastian, who snatched it and brought up the recent photos taken. The paper was nothing more than a crumpled note, the scrawls barely legible on the screen, but he peered at it, continuing to smoke to settle his nerves. He'd guessed that Ruben came from a wealthy background - a _mansion_ , for Christ's sake - but he hadn't expected him to be a pretentious brat. Where was Joseph in his time of need - hell, even Kidman? Language his ass. Ruben was on _his_ team; he wasn't in Elk River any more. If he wanted to go back to that pensioner haven, where the average life expectancy barely existed and the buildings rotted as much as the trees, then he was more than welcome. God knew that he fit in more with those croaky, fist-shaking elders than the rush of Krimson City.

He forced his thoughts back to the photo; the code was a mixture of words and childish pictures, like someone had asked a five-year-old to play Pictionary. But one symbol in particular caught his eye, made him hesitate and his blood run cold. The mark, an X, was divided with a line through the intersection. He gripped the phone, as though it could spill its secrets to him, as though it could clear the haze of desperate confusion that lingered from last year's memories. That symbol had caused more nightmares than all of his years in the KCPD ever had. Yet Ruben had understood it? 

"You cracked this?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

Ruben afforded him an amused glance, as if wondering how to respond, but he must have seen something in Sebastian's expression to hold back any criticism. "It has always been an interest of mine to decode messages. I had hoped that Krimson City would produce something enticing, but I suppose this is the closest I'll get." He hummed. "You sound dismayed. I'm sorry that we couldn't waste any more fuel to entertain your fancies. Perhaps next time."

"How did you...do it?" Sebastian gritted his teeth, searching for the right words. In the end, he settled for holding up the phone. "Do you know what this means? This symbol here?"

"I'm driving, Sebastian. I can't possibly look at that."

That was a load of bullshit, but he humoured him nonetheless. "It's an X with a line through it. What does it mean? Have you come across it before?" Ruben sighed, and then glanced his way. He held the phone closer. "You bagged the note?"

"It's in the glove compartment. I would advise against tampering with it. And for your information, that symbol didn't have any relevance. The rest corresponded with obvious everyday objects, and that symbol there - to the left of your index finger, the crooked lamppost - is curiously similar to the logo of 'The Red Light' bar, found at the end of Unter Street. Incidentally, there are a few blocks of apartments there."

Sebastian frowned. The bar name didn't ring a bell - and he'd seen his fair share of bars, and pubs, and the backstreet clubs with neon lights glaring from alleyways. None of which he was proud of visiting, but it _had_ led to some exploration around the city, finding places away from the police stations - more importantly, a certain bespectacled detective who had started to take note of those he frequented. But apparently Ruben knew the city better than he'd assumed. A small search had probably done the job, but Sebastian wondered how much Ruben had researched in his own time.

"That's where we're heading now," said Sebastian, looking to Ruben for confirmation.

The other detective gave a hint of a smile. "Good to know that I'm sitting next to Krimson City's finest. Please roll down your window."

Sebastian obeyed, if only for the sake of avoiding an argument, and continued to suck on the cigarette whilst staring at the phone. His gaze lingered on that single symbol, slowly frustrating him as he wondered why Cabrera would have ties to it. Finding the escaped patient had been a challenge in itself, but the case wasn't over yet, and he had a feeling that they'd only served to open up new complications.

True to his word, Unter Street was only a two-minute drive away; he spotted the aforementioned bar as Ruben drove past, comparing its sign to the drawing. As strange as the code was, as much as it infuriated him, they - _he_ \- had to focus on the case: their priority was finding Cabrera, and should there be nothing in the area to suggest where he had gone, he would never hear the end of it from his team.

Ruben parked the car and took his phone back from Sebastian, who stepped out from the car first. The neighbourhood was the standard row of narrow, five-storey apartments, with a small corner shop further down the road. The pathway was littered with fallen leaves, crunching underfoot as Sebastian walked forwards, surveying each of the apartments whilst filling his lungs with warm smoke from the cigarette. The engine cut behind him; Ruben got out and pulled his coat tighter around him, shooting Sebastian a look of distaste when he dropped the cigarette and ground it with his foot. But Sebastian allowed him to take the lead, trying to gauge how offended his new partner would be if he questioned his judgement. None of this had been confirmed by anyone else in the department, so there was every chance that Ruben had misread the drawings - drawings that Sebastian hadn't even deciphered - and they had gone to completely the wrong end of the city.

But Sebastian saw the determination in Ruben's eyes, and withheld any doubts - if not for the security of their partnership, then for the opportunity to see Ruben take the evidence back to Joseph and accept that second opinion. They ascended a set of steps leading up to one of the apartments, its black door scuffed and nicked from abuse. When Ruben made no move to press the buzzer, Sebastian did it for him, giving him an enquiring look.

"What floor?" he asked.

"Third," was Ruben's curt reply.

Sebastian rang for the ground floor instead, where someone - female, brisk, tired - answered and allowed them in once he had explained their presence. The buzzer sounded again, and Ruben pushed open the door, stepping into a hallway that was well lit with natural light and had a fire exit down the other end. A door to the apartment on their immediate left was wide open; standing in the doorway was a young woman, bags under her eyes as she watched them enter, her gaze lingering a fraction too long on Ruben before flicking to him. It was a look that Sebastian recognised from the hundred of times that he'd done this before: curiosity and caution, the desire to get involved but stay out of harm's way. He showed his badge to the woman, and she chewed her lip as he approached.

"Detective Sebastian Castellanos of KCPD," he explained. Her expression did not change. "We have reason to believe that a suspect lives in this building. Have you heard any commotion or movement going in or out?"

The woman nodded slowly. "A few minutes ago, maybe. Someone came in. Went upstairs, I think. I don't know. Who is it?"

"A man named Fernando Cabrera, a long-standing patient of Beacon Mental Hospital. Did he live here, or have any relatives who do?"

"I don't know. I don't remember anyone called that." She reached for the door, and, seeing this, Sebastian took a step back to distance himself. "I heard a shout just now - couldn't tell who it was. They sounded angry, aggressive. Should I be worried?"

"Sebastian," called Ruben. Sebastian glanced at him, only to find that he was up the stairs and as such out of view. Groaning inwardly, Sebastian excused himself and followed after his partner, gritting his teeth. The man needed to slow down; he understood the need for subtlety, but if Ruben had had his way, then they probably would never have spoken to the woman at all and Sebastian wouldn't be pulling his coat back to make his gun accessible. He'd only just finished the paperwork on the last time that he'd had to pull it out, but he would be damned if this guy got the jump on him again.

Ruben, on the other hand, showed no concerns for using the gun holstered at his belt; he continued up the staircase to the third floor, Sebastian resisting the urge to stomp after him. But then his pulse picked up as they paused at the landing, and he exchanged a knowing look with his partner. Halfway down the corridor to their right, an apartment door had been left ajar, and in the quiet of the muted sounds from outside and their concentration, low muttering could be heard, making the hairs on Sebastian's nape prick. It was nothing intelligible, and that was precisely the reason why Sebastian took out his pistol; the chances that Cabrera couldn't be reasoned with were slim, and Ruben could always testify for him in court. If Cabrera was happy enough to stab a doctor with a syringe, then Sebastian wanted to able to drop him before any pointy objects came near.

Now that he was standing inside the building, Sebastian could appreciate his surroundings: the clean, if threadbare, carpet, the windows with their shutters pulled up to bring in the light, the state of the locks on the apartment doors - none of which seemed to have been broken or replaced recently, which was a change from those in the less attractive districts of the city. As he walked forwards, two hands on his gun, both eyes on the open door, he found himself curious as to how Cabrera could have accessed such a place. He didn't recall an Unter Street in his file, but then he _had_ been more focused on his medical records, trying to deduce why Cabrera and his friend would lash out and make a break for it from Beacon Mental Hospital.

Finding a motive for someone so mentally unstable was easy enough - get away from the doctors, escape to a safe and familiar place, logical reasons - but then that was what anyone would expect. It had been what Sebastian had expected: Cabrera hadn't liked his treatment, so he'd tried to run, hurting someone in the process. Joseph and Kidman were taking care of Patient Number Two, who hadn't gotten very far after leaving the premises and so had the easy part of the job.

He peered around the doorway, and clenched his jaw at the unholy mess of broken furniture and crockery. An old-fashioned TV had its screen scattered on the living room rug as shards of glass; across from him was the kitchen, or rather, what used to be the kitchen, what with the cupboards unhinged and the fridge toppled over. The muttering had grown louder, and seemed to be coming from around the corner, where Sebastian guessed the bedrooms and bathroom were. He caught Ruben's eye, indicating that he was going to proceed and for him to follow. Ruben nodded, and Sebastian decided that he liked his partner more when there weren't snarky comments being thrown at him.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the apartment, noting the knives and forks that had been stabbed into the walls. The knife block in the corner of the kitchen was empty; most of the cutlery that he could see in the walls was blunt, leaving him with an idea of where the sharp ones were. He kept to the wall and looked round the corner. A figure, dressed in a soiled white patient uniform, was pacing in and out of view from one of the bedrooms. Sebastian silently relayed this to Ruben, whose expression hardened into resolve, and then skulked down the corridor, thumbing the safety off. He waited to hear what Cabrera had to say, but when the garbled words didn't hint to any useful, he burst into the bedroom, levelling the pistol at Cabrera's torso.

"Police! Don't move!" he ordered, just as Cabrera swore and cowered into the corner, eyes locked on Sebastian's gun. He heard footsteps behind him, and Ruben joined his side. "Show me your hands!"

Suddenly, Cabrera's gaze shifted, and Sebastian reacted before his mind even registered what that meant. The crack of the gunshot stung his ears, but it didn't compare to the pain that Cabrera must have felt, having staggered and dropped when the bullet tore through his leg. His whimpers did give a good indication, though. Ruben had leapt back in shock, but Sebastian didn't linger on him. He kicked aside the carving knife that Cabrera had relinquished before approaching the suspect, who had drawn out a bread knife from behind his back and was lashing out, screaming at the top of his voice.

"No! Don't! Don't!" he shrieked, his free hand clutching his thigh where blood webbed out from the wound, flattening himself against the wall in a vain attempt to escape the two men standing before him.

"Drop the knife!" Sebastian cocked the gun, and Cabrera wailed. "Drop it!" The suspect gave a full body shudder, eyes fluttering, and Sebastian tensed for another attack. But then the knife fell, and Ruben was on him, restraining him with handcuffs and patting him down for any more weapons - of which there were three, smaller than the others and all tucked into his waistband. Cabrera was yelling something about rectangles in a never-ending pattern, wriggling against Ruben's grip.

But taking him down to the car was a surprisingly quieter affair: Cabrera seemed more intent on looking around him in wild fear, hobbling unsteadily down the stairs, jerking away from them only to decide that there was some kind of safety in staying close. The woman on the ground floor did not make an appearance. Sebastian frowned as he watched Cabrera struggle to make up his mind on whether to lunge forwards or lean against him, but any questions on his behaviour were forgotten as they got to the car and Ruben secured Cabrera into the back. Sebastian took the liberty to take the wheel, watching as his partner entered the passenger seat with raised eyebrows.

"We have the evidence back at the station," said Sebastian, more to himself than those in the car with him, "and we have the suspect in the back. Case sorted."

"I don't envy you the paperwork," admitted Ruben. "How often do you feel the need to pull out your gun to subdue a suspect?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes, feeling a spike of annoyance. "I didn't see you leaping forwards to get that knife out of his hands."

"No, you're right. Next time, I'll save my gun around and fire as close to the torso as possible in order to impress my point."

"It wasn't close to the torso. It was his _thigh_."

"And I'm sure you know what that connects to?"

"I saw the gunshot. It's right in the middle of his thigh. Stop making a scene. Christ, you sound like Joseph."

Ruben smirked. "You wound me, Sebastian. Figuratively. Although you're no doubt considering taking out your gun again and making it literal."

"Don't tempt me," grumbled Sebastian. "Make yourself useful and tell dispatch to send someone up here to cordon off Cabrera's apartment. We still have work to do."

"Oh, I thought otherwise. Thank you for reminding me."

Sebastian was pulling out a cigarette before Ruben even reached for the radio. That man might even beat Joseph's record of how fast he could get Sebastian to fall back on his vices. But the engine was soon running, and the only thing to distract him was Cabrera's mumbling.


End file.
